


Your Heart's Full Of Liquor

by hedoro



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 05:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedoro/pseuds/hedoro
Summary: And yet, there he was, wishing for the fun once more. Uruha’s arms were heaven.Even if they were Aoi’s hell.





	Your Heart's Full Of Liquor

**Author's Note:**

> oh look, i'm wasting time again~ *sweats*  
>  i have no idea what this is. woops. thanks for reading~ ♥

**I.**

They were laughing one minute and crying the next. The night seemed so fun until it wasn’t and Aoi was left picking up the sharp pieces in his hands, forcing them back together and earning cuts that bit into his sweaty palms in the process.  
  
Uruha’s body was pliant in his hands and he sagged d under the weight. For a tall body and thin limbs, Uruha’s lithe frame was actually fairly heavy. He didn’t look it, not with the elegant slope of his back and the gentle curve of his waist.  
  
Yet there Aoi was, lugging Uruha’s body out of the car and past the door to his apartment. Uruha had misplaced his keys.  
  
While Aoi had misplaced his heart.

**II.**

The house was cool and the curtains were drawn open. The night poured in along with the rain. He’d left the window open. Forgot to shut it in favour of tangling his legs with Uruha’s.  
  
He regretted it now though. The covers were gone from his body and so was the warmth of Uruha’s legs. The mere centimetres between them on the mattress felt like they were miles apart.  
  
And yet, there he was, reaching out and looking for something to hold onto in the darkness. Uruha shivered at the feeling of cold fingers and wrapped the blanket around himself tighter.  
  
While Aoi flinched, withdrawing desperate hands, and wrapped frigid arms around himself.

 **III.**

The music blared loudly over the speakers but Uruha didn’t care as he topped his glass up and forced another drink into Aoi’s hands. It wasn’t an invitation to drink. So much as it was _get drunk with me so I can forget you exist._  
  
And yet, there he was, existing in tortured agony that seemed to be unending. Uruha stared at him with eyes that matched the ice in his glass.  
  
While Aoi stared at him with eyes as broken as the heart behind his rib cage.

**IV.**

The door closed quietly behind him as he slipped his feet into slippers. Home at last, he called out softly–an old habit that had yet to die–and half expected an incoherent, inebriated response.  
  
Yet there he was, knowing that a response wouldn’t come. And Uruha was gone.  
  
While he had stayed.

**V.**

He downed the beer in seconds and shook his head, heading to the fridge a third time. Just one more. To calm his nerves.  
  
The fight had been angry. Doors had been slammed and punches had been thrown. The black eye, painful as it was, somehow didn’t hurt as much as the vitriol that had been hurled at him.  
  
But there he was, wishing for the fun once more. Uruha’s arms were heaven.  
  
Even if they were Aoi’s hell.

**VI.**

The record played in the background on loop, loudly, in a bid to drown out the noise in his head and the silence of his apartment. Under the shower, he blinked back tears and scolded himself. Men don’t cry over stupid, needless shit.  
  
And yet there he was, crying over needless shit. Except Uruha wasn’t needless.  
  
And Aoi certainly needed him, perhaps far more than he needed a drink.

**VII.**

Uruha’s eyes were molten lava and his skin was fire under Aoi’s fingers. He didn’t want it this way between them. He wanted a slower, softer death.  
  
The man in front of him wasn’t Uruha. He was a gasping maw, a monster of grand proportions—an ifrit, aflame and devouring everything in his path and leaving only ash in his wake.  
  
Yet, there he was, writhing under Uruha as the fire raged on, engulfing him in its heat. Oh, what he would give for water to quench this thirst. Uruha snarled and thrust into him forcefully, clawing at his skin and nearly ripping his jugular open.  
  
While Aoi absorbed it all, quiet and meek, burning alive under Uruha’s intensity.

**VIII.**

Aoi sighed quietly to himself, wondering how he had got here and who he was and where he stood. His entirety had been burned away by Uruha and now he was nothing but skin marred with the radiation shadows where Uruha had been. Maybe now he could rise from the ashes and reinvent himself in a better, brighter light. One that Uruha would see clearer.  
  
And yet there he was, day dreaming wondrous masterpieces in the blank spaces of his mind; splashing colour on canvas and giving colours to feelings that had no names. He looked up to find Uruha, the master of all his pieces, staring at him strangely.  
  
While Aoi shrugged and stared back.

**IX.**

He wondered what went through Uruha’s mind. He wondered what possessed him to continue toying with his feelings, wondered how he felt in general. But Uruha rarely talked about those feelings, nor did he talk about much else.  
  
It was only ever alcohol and sex and Aoi was getting tired of their lie.  
  
However, there he was knocking back shot after shot of liquor so sickly sweet that it threatened to make him puke his guts up along with his innermost thoughts. Uruha's sticky, sweet smile and syrupy voice lured him away from his thoughts to focus on brilliant, amber eyes. Uruha grinned at him from across the table.  
  
High on a sugar overdose and with eyes alcohol hazed, Aoi groaned weakly as his stomach churned. He tripped away while his world and body turned over.

**X.**

Uruha groaned and Aoi cried. The come down was hard. He wanted it to end better, instead of bitter. Coming off an addiction, in any form, was hard. Harder still, was going cold turkey. Aoi curled into Uruha’s body and wondered when he would stop shaking and start being free.  
  
And yet, there Uruha was, sitting with Aoi, shaking off his own addiction and trying to salvage something from the embers, waiting for a spark to rekindle and set something alight in them, as he held onto Aoi for dear life.  
  
Aoi gasped in pain, gripping at Uruha’s shirt, hand over his heart.  
  
While Uruha laughed, painful as it was, and realised that his heart had only ever been full of alcohol and Aoi.


End file.
